


Molly Thoughts

by sunshinealeia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 05:39:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11075163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinealeia/pseuds/sunshinealeia
Summary: After the War is over and Voldemort has been defeated, Molly muses on lost loved ones and the remaining relationships left behind.





	Molly Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The entire Wizarding World of Harry Potter and all characters included therin are the intellectual property of JK Rowling. The following writing is not meant to infringe on any copyright laws; it is purely for the amusement of fans, like myself, who have found love and acceptance in an alternate magical universe.

They told her it prevented healing. They grumbled that daydreaming was for children – remembering the past, and altering it to fit a narrative that didn’t exist, was cruel. So Molly quit sharing her musings. Damn the others and their beliefs on what could soothe a mind. To lose so much in the war: to lose a child in Fred, to lose a friend in Remus, and to lose a confidant in Tonks, and then to further deal with the heartache caused by each, was something that had to be grieved upon in one’s own way. In their own time. So, in this in-between stasis of time where all of Molly’s children had moved up and out of their family homes to begin their own lives, and before the house was again filled with the romping of toddlers and the giggles of babies, she chose to dream. She chose to dream of the could-haves and the should-haves and, most importantly, the would-have beens.

For Lily and James she dreamt of time with their son. How proud they would be of Harry! No matter how often she told him, and she most assuredly made it a point to do so often, she knew he would never understand the truth, the weight, of her words. And really, pride was an emotion that wasn’t always easily conveyed. What she truly yearned the family had been able to share were those little moments that meant so much more: first steps and first words, the first day of Hogwarts, and the joy and heartache of gaining and losing a first love. Hugs and kisses and pointless spats were all lost to the ether that fateful night when Voldemort snuffed out the lives of two loving individuals who had their whole lives ahead of them. Alas, time goes on, and while wounds of that magnitude never heal, they do become easier to bear. Warring emotions of sadness, still, at their untimely deaths, and joy at the lives they led and the examples they set would leave Molly speechless and utterly confused. She received respite from the situation however, and Merlin she hoped the Potters could hear her prayers, by voluntarily stepping in as Harry’s adoptive mother. With Arthur by her side, they vowed to care for him as their own until their dying day. Who better to fill the large shoes left behind by the lost Order members? Molly alone knew they, The Weasleys, could shoulder that burden and never stand in front of the Potter’s remaining presence. Rather, she would stand beside Lily and continue to show Harry, day in and day out, why his parents were people to be respected and remembered.

For Hermione’s parents, The Grangers, she dreamt of continued ignorance. What a shock it must have been to suddenly wake from a new, separate life in Australia, to learn their minds had been addled by a memory charm, performed by their own daughter no less! A daughter they dropped to their knees and thanked their own God they had. Hadn’t they felt a void in their lives for as long as they could remember? After the resounding shock, and subsequent pain and distrust that accompanies that kind of revelation, the relationships between all the Grangers was strained to the breaking point. Molly would often wish she could do more to ease the tension that stressed those bonds. At this point, anything magical seemed distasteful to the Muggle couple and Hermione’s Wizard village seemed to understand that time was needed more than forceful explanations of safety, honor, and duty. Mrs. Weasley instead lavished Hermione with as much doting affection as she could muster and had lost count of the evenings she’d sat with the sobbing Gryffindor on her couch, whispering encouraging words in the girl’s ear and stroking her bushy hair. War never failed to leave it’s mark on those closest to it, Muggles included.

For the Malfoy’s, Lucius and Narcissa, but especially young Draco, she dreamt of love and light. That poor, wretched family suffered tremendously since the stain of Dark Magic had made itself known in the world with the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Their family had supported him, albeit reluctantly, trailing back generations. From Abraxas to Lucius, and then finally to Draco, every wrong choice made by each of them led to further blackness seeping into their hearts and minds. Aided and abetted by complacency and willful ignorance, they furthered the spread of hate throughout the Wizarding community. Thankfully the disease of death and destruction never fully wound it’s way around the youngest Malfoy’s heart and Harry himself had been there, on multiple occasions, to see the hesitancy to carry out the Dark Lord’s agenda in Draco’s eyes. For those reasons, Molly knew salvation was possible for the family moving forward.

Finally, finally... after she spent minutes, hours, days and weeks dreaming of the other affected families, she would end up back in her own misery. Her own tortured memories were right there bubbling under the surface. How did no one understand that using this time to dote on others and dream happy dreams that would never come to fruition was a way to distance herself from the ache in her heart of losing Fred? Remus. Tonks. Severus. Dumbledore… the pain was a chasm of hurt and despair that needed filling, no matter the stuffing used. It was these moments when Mrs. Weasley was most vulnerable; seeking something to stitch her wounds. Large, despair-filled tears slid down her cheeks as Molly rocked back and forth in her chair, allowing her mind to wander in the numbness. 

“Mum,” Ginny called from the doorway to the sitting room, “everyone is here and dinner is ready.”

“Dinner?” Molly seemed startled to learn someone else had cooked and that she was the last to arrive to a planned soiree. 

“Yes Mum, remember, George and Angelina wanted us to all have dinner together?” Ginny questioned her mother gently, walking over to the Matriarch and helping her from her seat.

“Oh, yes. Dinner. George and Angelina. My mind drifts too often these days, dear.”

The two made their way to the kitchen and were met with a cacophony of merriment and cheer. The atmosphere only one room away seemed world’s different than the somber tone left behind.

“Mum!” George crowed, running over to embrace Molly, “Come see, come sit.” 

He steered her to a lone chair, empty and waiting for her amongst the crowd. Everyone was present - the entire family along with their significant others. 

As Molly trailed behind George, her hand clasped in his, she felt her spirits lift with the knowledge that her entire family was there. Finally, they made it to the center of the room and she gratefully took the waiting seat.

Once settled, everyone turned to her, eager expressions on their faces and twinkles in their eyes.

Angelina stepped forward, flushed, and gave Molly a wide smile. George raised his wand and performed a non-verbal spell around his wife’s abdomen. A pulsing blue glow lifted from her womb, reaching into the sky, and dissipating like a dream.

“Mum,” George whispered, as hoarse as she’d ever heard him, “we’re going to name him Fred.”


End file.
